Inked Visions
by maxipoo1024
Summary: He's never asked for anything. They have a roof over their head and manage to stay one step ahead of the law. But now, after seeing her, he's about to ask for something. He knows it will be the last thing he ever asks for. E/B, AH


**A/N - **This was something I wrote for the Easter Bunny Twific exchange. I want to thank Fairusa84 for providing me with the prompt that inspired this story. The prompt is in the center of the banner. The banner can be found here: http:/i1118(dot)photobucket(dot)com/albums/k617/maxipoo1024/banners/inked(dot)jpg. The amazingly talented duo of HammerHips and JaspersDestiny whipped this into shape. Hope you like it and thanks for reading!

**Inked Visions**

_Week of September 10__th_

"You ready, B?" His hand is firmly placed on the stick shift, ready to kick it into high gear on her word. She reaches over to trace the letters tattooed on his knuckles. He looks down and smiles at the sight of her black nail polish, not a choice she would have made before.

"This is so crazy," she whispers, a hint of the girl she used to be fighting her way to the surface.

He turns to face her and their eyes meet. She doesn't try to explain her feelings because she doesn't even understand them. All she knows is somewhere in those sage eyes, she lost herself and found the love of her life.

She raises a lone eyebrow, jutting her chin out in defiance and adding a mischievous smile. "Let's do this."

_Week of July 23__rd_

He nervously sits at the mahogany desk, tugging at his shirt collar, trying to give himself more room to breathe. The man with the mustache comes back with a folder and sits behind the desk. Mr. Mustache watches as Edward pulls his sleeves down, silently thanking his brother for the borrowed shirt and being a little bigger. The longer sleeves cover the artwork on his arms seamlessly.

"So, Mr. Cullen, it says here you're applying for the position of teller." The man smooths down his mustache with his index and middle finger several times before continuing, "Isn't that a little lowbrow coming from your background?"

Suits always make him uncomfortable. He'd love nothing more than to cut that mustache off his face, skin still attached, and make a necklace out of it, kind of like what his father used to do in Nam. He has to contain his laughter at the usage of the word "lowbrow". For all intents and purposes, he and his family were very much lowbrow, living off the streets in Harlem. Leave it to Jasper to alter the documentation to show he is a graduate of the business program at Columbia. The thought of any of them even setting foot in a place like Columbia is a joke.

"Please, call me Edward," he says, plastering on his perfect con man smile. "I'm not much for small talk, so I will be straight with you. I have a very strong work ethic. I work hard for everything I have. I wouldn't feel right if I just strolled in here and took...well, if I took your job right out from under your nose without working for it." Edward flashes his teeth, causing the man to tense. Something just doesn't seem right about him, but he has to admit, he admires his candor.7

"What makes you think you could run this place, Edward?" He's goading him.

"My qualifications are right there on the paper." He really wants to rip the resume right out of his perfectly manicured hands, crumble it into a ball, and stuff it in his mouth, but he has a part to play. "But like I said, I wouldn't feel right. I like to work my way to the top, just like everyone else." Cocky and cool, he reclines in his chair and crosses his leg over his knee. Intertwining his fingers, he places them behind his head and waits for a response.

The man starts to nod, liking what he's hearing. He is planning on retiring in a few years. On paper, he'd make a great prodigy. The only way to find out is to give him a try.

"All right, Edward. You have the job. Come in first thing tomorrow so we can get you trained."

They shake hands. Mr. Mustache is caught off guard by the feel of cold steel under his fingers. Edward looks down at their joined hands, knowing he's feeling the large skull ring. He knows Emmett and Jasper begged him to take it off. It's futile. That ring hasn't left his finger since the day she put it there.

"Thank you, Mr..." he cranes his head around to the desk to see the name plate "...Mr. Swan. You won't regret this."

Edward heads for the door, anxious to share the outcome with his brothers. High off the success of the first part of the con, he doesn't even notice someone is trying to enter as he exits. Their chests collide and the plan changes.

"Ummph!" Her book flies from her hands. She pushes her hair away from her face. Instead of looking at the cause of the collision, she immediately bends down to fetch her book.

"Please, let me." He bends, his longer and stronger arm easily grabbing the book just out of her reach.

She slowly gets up and keeps her eyes down. He's bothered by the way she hides from him. Girls never shy from him. He has eyes that warm your insides and a smile that cracks the toughest exterior. He holds on tightly to the book, willing her to look at him. They hear frantic footsteps across the tile floor. Instinctively, she looks up. She doesn't miss the way his pupils get real large and the way he licks his lips. It should scare her but instead she flushes.

"Isabella." There is only one other thing that is more important to Charles Swan than his money—his daughter.

She reaches out for her book, trying so hard not to make physical contact. His hand is so big, it covers the whole thing. Fingertips shouldn't make her heart beat faster. She shouldn't be thinking about the black swirls peeking out from the cuff of his shirt. She gives a yank and brings the book to her chest, clutching it tightly.

"I see you've met Swan Investments' newest employee."

She keeps her lips tight and offers a fake smile. His lips turn up at the corners and his eyes actually sparkle. He gets drunk off of her uneasiness, not because he likes making innocent girls uncomfortable but because it just makes things a lot easier for him.

"Edward Cullen."

He leans in ever so slightly, and she gets a whiff of pine and spice, so manly and raw, unlike anything she's ever smelled before. Wondering what he tastes like, her pink tongue pokes out, threatening to break through the perfect line of her lips. She nods and gives him her hand. Instead of shaking it, he brings it to his lips and places a soft kiss on the skin between her thumb and forefinger. The longer they touch, skin on skin, lips on skin, it's like wild fire ripping through them, scorching their insides.

"Ahem."

Edward drops her hand and she places it on her cheek, hiding the redness that's sure to be there.

"Hi, Daddy." She walks past Edward and into the arms of her father. After a firm hug, he spins her so she's safely tucked into his side.

"See you tomorrow, Edward." The intimidating voice is back. Whatever lightness he had decided to impart on Edward is long gone when he sees the eyes he has for his daughter.

Edward watches as he squeezes Isabella's arm.

"Absolutely, boss." He plasters on a fake smile before leaving.

Outside, the sun is blinding. He pauses on the sidewalk and reaches inside his jacket to pull out a pair of aviators and an iPhone.

"It's done," he says into the phone, securing his sunglasses on his face. He starts walking down the street.

"About that...well, we're going to change the timetable on this one. Actually, more than that will change. I have something even better. I'll tell you when I get there."

~o~

The old oak table has gouges and burn marks in it. He carefully places his half empty beer in a ring left previously by another bottle in another lifetime. He is much more comfortable in his white wife-beater. Not only does he have a full sleeve of tattoos covering both his arms, his chest is covered, too, but stops at the neckline.

He waits as patiently as he can, peeling off the Budweiser label bit by bit. His mind wanders to the beautiful girl with hidden eyes and rosy cheeks.

A burly man sits across from him, his dimples making his bulging biceps and veins seem a little less intimidating..._almost_. It's funny what a kind smile can do. Emmett's never ceases to amaze Edward, the way he can sweet talk a woman into his bed one minute and beat a man to death with his bare hands the next. Jasper, the smallest—and probably smartest—of their trio, shuts the refrigerator with his hip, a metal on metal sound ringing out as his bullet studded belt brushes against the door.

"So..." Now it's their turn for patience. No matter the scheme or the cost of their crimes, he's always been on board. They are his brothers, not bound by blood but just as strong if not stronger. A chance encounter and a decision by the government had brought them together. _Wrong place, right time_, that's what they still say. Who knew getting caught holding up a convenience store, stealing account numbers from ATMs, and snapping a deadbeat's neck would be the best thing for them? There are many souls that wish that day never happened. Living on the streets, "every man for himself" is the unspoken but most important law of all. Now they have each other and one rule trumps everything: family first.

He's never asked for anything. They have a roof over their head and manage to stay one step ahead of the law. But now, after seeing her, he's about to ask for something. He knows it will be the last thing he ever asks for.

"It's going to be a longer job than we anticipated," he explains.

"But you said you got the job. It should only be a matter of days until you get the codes and we can transfer the money." Emmett doesn't like staying in the same place for too long. It could be because he is constantly pissing women off by fucking and chucking, but it's more because he worries about their safety.

He shouldn't be afraid. Jasper has his web spread so far out into the city that they know when the heat is coming after them before the cops even do. But he knows his brother, too. He knows the longer they stay in the same place, or on the same job, Edward risks the chance of getting attached, and that is not something any of them can afford. The last time he got attached, Alice died.

"There's a girl," Edward continues. Jasper rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his beer.

"No." Emmett's eyes narrow as he flares his nostrils, his piercing really making him look like the bull he is.

"Hear me out! We were only in for a few grand, easy to grab and impossible to trace. What if...what if we did the one job and made enough so that we could get the hell out of here once and for all?"

Jasper quirks a brow in his direction. "I'm listening."

"I don't like it, Edward." Emmett cuts in.

He doesn't have to like it. Edward has already made up his mind. He's doing this whether they agree or not.

"This guy, Charles Swan, he's worth millions. That's why we picked him. Because whatever discrepancies his clients complain about on their statements, he'll just pay them back. A couple grand here and there is nothing for this man. He spends fifteen thousand dollars on a suit, for Christ's sake. He's a proud man. He doesn't want anyone to speak negatively about him or his business."

"So what are you saying? We take more money?" Jasper asks.

"He has a daughter. If we take his daughter, he'd be willing to—"

"Absolutely not!" Emmett pushes his chair back and slams his monster fists down on the table, causing Edward's beer to fall over.

"You haven't even heard what my plan is."

"I don't care. Not gonna happen." Emmett looks to Jasper for support.

Jasper shakes his head, trying to remain calm and clear the vivid memories from his mind. "He's right, Edward. You can't get close like that again. We lost Al—"

"Don't say it, Jasper. I'm warning you..."

Jasper is out of his seat in a flash. He pulls Edward out of his chair and holds him by the neck of his wife-beater. He may appear scrawnier than the other two, but he fights with his heart. Somehow he manages to hold Edward against a wall. Emmett looks on as Jasper fights back his tears.

"Don't say it? She was your sister, but I _loved_ her. You got too close. You trusted the wrong people, and now she's gone."

Edward holds both his hands up in defense, knowing he deserves whatever pain Jasper decides to inflict on him. He's right. Alice is dead because of him. Jasper rears his fist, squeezing until his knuckles turn white, and suddenly drops it. He releases Edward and slumps to the ground with a sob.

Kneeling down beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder, Edward tries to comfort him.

With wet cheeks and red eyes, Jasper turns to face him. "You think you're the only one that lost her?" Edward silently shakes his head. After a few slow breaths, Jasper adds, "I'm sorry I blamed you."

"It's okay, I blame myself, too."

Emmett offers each of the men a hand and pulls them up to their feet. "So it's settled. In and out. No getting attached."

"Look, I can't explain why, but I know this is going to work. It's like Alice sent her to me. There's something about her... I think if I just had more time with her, she'd go along with my plan."

"And if things go wrong? If we get caught? You're ready to go back?" Emmett asked.

"We're not going back. I trust her."

_Week of July 30th_

His days are occupied by crunching numbers and maintaining clients. At night he is glued to a computer screen, reading articles, downloading pictures of the prominent Swan family. His wife is pretty enough, but the daughter, Isabella, takes his breath away. He starts to daydream about her, wondering if he hallucinates seeing her tiny face peek through the open window of the Lincoln town car that comes to get Charles every day at five on the dot.

Mr. Swan is still working when Edward glances at the clock and sees it's half past five. His eyes move to the chime of the front door. He holds his breath as a gust of wind blows through the office, causing her hair to sway around her shoulders. She walks past his desk and straight to her father's office. He watches as she gently knocks on the door. She's disappointed. A tiny v-shape forms on the bridge of her nose as Mr. Swan waves back and forth to his desk and cradles the phone on his shoulder. She gives him a kiss on the cheek and walks over to the empty desk next to Edward's.

She plops her bag down and digs out a book, the very same book from the first day he met her. Off in her own world, drowning in the words of the page, she doesn't realize his stare...but she can feel it. Edward subconsciously rolls up his sleeves and unbuttons his shirt, something he always does after the boss leaves.

"Interesting choice."

"Huh?" She looks around, confused.

"Your book. _Crime and Punishment_?"

She rolls around in the chair and faces him. "You've read Dostoyevsky?"

"I'm very familiar..." he purses his lips in a sly smile "...with that particular work of his."

She eyes his forearms and nods, quickly turning back to the desk. The moment is thick but not uncomfortable. He's just waiting for the right moment. He hears her sigh as she's reading.

"Rodion is my favorite," he says softly. A small smile starts to form on her lips as she continues reading.

Twenty minutes go by in complete silence, save for her breaths keeping time better than any clock ever could. Charles Swan is standing in front of the desk.

"Ready, baby?" he asks.

She packs up her things and slings her bag over her shoulder.

"Oh, my jacket! I'll be right back." He kisses her forehead before scurrying off to grab his overcoat.

It seems like he's back within seconds, but she has just enough time to whisper something to Edward before he comes back.

"I like your artwork."

He smiles brightly as he watches their backs retreat out of the office and into the busy city lights.

_Thank you, Alice._

_Week of August 6th_

It's the little things Edward knows not to take for granted. A series of small moments and insignificant encounters make up this man's life. He reads into everything and finds meaning in it all. Instead of waiting in the car, Isabella continues to come into the office and wait for her father, even if he's not running late. They don't exchange any more words, just stolen glances and wanting smiles. The way she closes her eyes for a second too long when he waves, the way she moves all her hair to one side of her neck when she walks by his desk, they all serve his purpose.

His brothers press him for progress. He explains he can't rush things. He refuses to rush this, rush her. The one day he's not at his desk, she has to stay late. Sitting in her normal chair, she can't bring herself to read her book. It's something about the way she knows he's staring at her. She finds pleasure in his eyes lingering on her body. She misses the way she feels when he watches her. Disappointed and frustrated, she brings her knees to her chest, wraps her arms around them, and rests her forehead. Maybe a nap will take the edge off.

She closes her eyes but can't shake the green and black—his eyes, his ink. A bleeding rosebud traced by tribal swirls sits on one forearm. The deep red of the blood is the only color present. The other arm is like a patchwork quilt: blues and purples, flesh tones and pale pinks. She remembers gold eyes of a woman, wavy hair tied back with a red bandana, very pin-up. A part of her twinges with jealousy. How ridiculous! She doesn't even know this man. Why does she care if another woman is tattooed on his arm?

The rustling of papers disturbs her. She lifts her head and stares. He looks at her. His eyes apologize but hers are full of anger.

"You were gone." Her voice is seething. She's surprised by her unwarranted aggression. Her dreams are starting to affect her reality.

His top lip curls as he lifts his venti latte from Starbucks.

"Coffee here sucks." Isabella shakes her head, trying to shake off the hurt. Afraid she's still angry, he leans into her and whispers, "Don't tell the boss."

She blushes furiously as his proximity gets closer and closer. She can feel his measured breaths teasing at the nape of her neck. He watches her cheeks redden, already picturing the perfect color to use to make this memory last forever.

_Week of August 13th_

Another week passes and he gets anxious. Every day his boss leaves, and he doesn't even catch a glimpse of her before he sees the red taillights of the town car fading off into the distance. He paces the hallway during the day, pausing outside of Mr. Swan's door, eavesdropping for any clue to the whereabouts of his daughter. Concentrating on his _job _is near impossible. Staring at his screen, he tries to write down notes but instead snaps pencil after pencil. He gets up from his desk and rushes to the bathroom.

Standing in front of the sink, he splashes cold water on his face. He looks back up at the mirror and touches the bags under his eyes. If he doesn't get his act together, he's going to blow it.

"Calm the fuck down," he says to himself. _This is going to work. It has to._

As composed as he can be, he sits back down at his desk. A part of him just wants to give up. He doesn't want to risk his brothers' lives for his stupid obsession. Because that's what it is... He only saw the girl a handful of times, but he knows it has to be Bella.

_His brothers didn't know everything about Alice. They knew she was his twin, but they didn't know about the weird connection they shared. Jasper blamed it on the drugs. Too much meth and acid started to rot her brain. Edward knew differently. She could always tell him when things were going to happen before they did. Emmett and Jasper thought Edward just appeased her, believing her "visions"._

_Three years ago, Alice had a vision. She knew better than to share it with the others. They never believed her anyway. She told Edward about the girl._

"_She's pink for you," Alice said. It was always hard deciphering the meaning in her words, but he tried nonetheless. "Browns that hide but a heart that never lies."_

It never made sense until the day he met Isabella.

He picks up the phone to make a call when he sees it: the tall, white cardboard cup with an inviting green siren calling his name. He grabs it and brings up to his nose, inhaling the sweet, strong smell. A touch of lavender cinnamon lingers in the air. He stands and leans against his desk, peeking down the hall just in time to see her brown eyes and a hint of pink looking back at him as he takes a sip. He should have been plenty happy with her blush. Instead, he takes his time with his sip, slowly putting his lips to the rim. He pulls the cup away and sticks out his tongue, giving the hole of the lid a few short flicks before taking more coffee into his mouth. Her blush deepens and he flashes a devilish grin.

She has to wait for her father a few days later, but this day, she doesn't read. She sketches in a notebook. He can see smooth lines and shadows. All she uses is a pencil. She doesn't hide; instead she turns to the side so he can get a clear view of her drawing. It's a rose, but it almost looks more like a heart. Vines and thorns surround it, squeezing the beauty out of it. It's dark, just like his other tattoos, but something about it seems hopeful. The stem of the flower twists and turns and traces a skull he'd recognize anywhere. The only difference is the way the vine moves around the skull, making it look more like a heart.

It's another sign, and he's ready to be bold. By the end of the week, he does something he never planned to do. He has to leave early that day. They're having a get-together at his house. It would have been Alice's twenty-eighth birthday. He never knows when to expect her, but he takes a chance. He takes off his skull ring and places it on the empty desk.

The whole weekend passes and he feels naked. Jasper and Emmett notice the missing ring. They want to ask, but they know better. It could either end with a black-eye or the silent treatment.

"It's almost time," Emmett says.

"I know. We still have time."

"You're getting too close," Jasper adds.

"No!" He cracks his knuckles and pauses on his middle finger. "That's the problem. I'm taking it slow. I need to know without a doubt that she's ready."

"What if she'll never be ready?" Emmett would much rather prefer they take the money and run. This nonsense about the girl is just going to get them caught, or worse...killed.

"She will. She has to be."

_Week of August 20__th_

Monday morning rolls around and he's never been more excited to go to work. There's an unnerving feeling in the pit of his stomach as he walks past the empty desk. The ring is gone. Anyone could have taken it, but that inexplicable feeling, the warmth that overpowers the dread, tells him that she took it.

He finds out two days later when she sits down at the desk and he sees a heavy braided chain resting on her neck. She's wearing a low cut, tight black blouse, the silver of the chain distracting him almost as much as her perky breasts. His day can't get any better until he sees his skull ring dangling between the two objects of his desire from the chain. Despite its tough appearance, it fits her so perfectly.

Friday is the day. He arranges for Charles Swan to have an extra long meeting with a client. Isabella sits silently at the desk—no book, no sketches. She knows this is the moment. She's been dreaming about it, waiting for it. Something has to give, and she's ready to talk to him. Just as she's about to turn around and speak, she feels him next to her. His hands are gripping the back of her chair firmly. He wants to touch her but he can't. He's afraid he won't be able to control himself. Instead, he settles for breathing her in. He lowers his head and whispers into the spot right beneath her earlobe.

"I'm asking you to come with me. If you say no, I'm going to take you anyway."

Her whole body trembles, not with fear but arousal. "I'll go."

He roughly grabs her hand and pulls her out of the chair. It rolls across the floor with force. He expects he'll need to drag her to get her to move faster, but her short legs manage to keep up with his long stride. She wants this. They rush out the door; the bell doesn't ring since Jasper already dismantled the alarm.

Emmett slides open the door of the conversion van and Edward helps her inside.

Edward is wasting precious time. "Hurry it up, Edward!" Emmett urges as he grabs her by the arm, his huge hand leaving thumb-prints on her bicep. She hears a growl from Edward.

"Don't touch her like that."

"She's fine. Get in the front now!"

Edward slams the door closed and hops in the front seat. Jasper steps on the gas and they weave through the city traffic. Edward turns in his seat, his eyes never leaving hers. Emmett takes out a black sack and tries to place it over her head. She's not scared and doesn't resist.

"She doesn't need that, Emmett."

"Like hell she doesn't! You know the plan. She can't see where we're taking her."

"She's not going to rat us out."

"You can't know that. You're too fucking close. I knew this was going to happen!" He shakes out the sack and positions it over her head.

"If you put that on her, I will come back there and—"

"And what?"

"Enough!" The voice surprises everyone. "I'll wear the stupid thing over my head. Just stop. Don't fight."

"You heard the little lady," Emmett says.

Edward stares at Emmett as he gently lowers it over her head. He turns back around and keeps his eyes on the road. The rest of the ride is silent until they reach a back road full of bumps. Metal clanks around in the rear of the van as Isabella is jostled from her seat.

"I've got you." His hands are no longer rough as he gently steadies her. The acid in his voice is gone and replaced by the soothing words.

Edward pulls down his visor and watches in his mirror. He side smiles as Alice's last gift manages to seep a little deeper into their lives.

Jasper parks the van and Edward jumps out and opens the back hatch. He reaches his hand out, but Emmett already has a protective hold on her.

"It's all right. I'll help her inside. You go get everything ready." He can't hide his smile, and he takes long strides, carefully navigating the rocky path to the little log cabin.

He grabs a flowered pillow off the couch and frantically fluffs it. It doesn't match the plaid couch, but it's all he has. He places it in the middle, but that just looks stupid. He tucks it into one of the arm rests, but that doesn't look right either. He looks up as the door opens and Isabella is ushered in by Emmett. Jasper is already in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove, a bottle in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other.

"What?" he asks as Edward gives him a funny look. "I thought she'd be hungry."

Edward haphazardly throws the pillow down and comes up to Jasper's side.

"And you think macaroni and cheese from a box would be up to her culinary standards?"

"Actually, it's my favorite." She smooths down her flyaways, caused by the static from the sack.

She catches Jasper snickering while he stirs the pot as Emmett pulls out the kitchen chair for her. Edward disappears for a minute to change into something more comfortable. He wants to feel like himself for a change instead of hiding in a monkey suit. With what he's about to tell her, he needs to be himself. He puts on a black t-shirt and a pair of ripped, faded jeans. He walks back into the kitchen, nervously making his way to the table with both hands in his pockets. He's not prepared for the inquisition that awaits him.

"Is Edward even your real name?" She doesn't sound angry; more anxious than anything. She fiddles with the ring around her neck, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Yes."

"And you're working as a team?" she asks, looking toward Jasper and Emmett. Edward answers with a nod, not sure why she wants the specifics. "Is it about money?" She finally looks up at Edward. Seeing him in normal clothes, in his home, she sees something that was missing in their previous interactions. _Hurt._ The pain so clearly etched on his skin is now in his eyes. "Did my father do something to hurt you?"

"No! It's nothing like that..."

Jasper places a plate of macaroni and cheese in front of her. "I hope it's to your liking. I know this isn't the Four Seasons." He side eyes Edward and smiles widely at Isabella.

"This is great. My mother never kept it in the house, but when I'd go over to a friend's for dinner and they had this..." her eyes light up and she licks her lips "...I'm sure I'll love it. Thanks. Jasper, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. At your service." He takes a seat next to Emmett.

"If it's not money and it's not revenge, then why?"

"It's sort of a long story," Edward replied.

"I'm sure I can keep up." She takes her first bite and smiles at Jasper.

"Clearly, I'm not as well off as I appear to be." He gestures around the rundown cabin, at the rotting exposed beams and dilapidated furniture. "This was my father's house. I lived here with him and my little sister after my mother took off." At the mention of Alice, Jasper snaps a piece of wood off the edge of the table. "He was good for a while, kept going to work, and then one day he just lost it. The doctors said it was a combination of PTSD and cirrhosis of the liver. I think maybe he gave up. I found him in an alley. He had pissed himself and died of hypothermia."

She places her hand over her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

Emmett chuckles darkly and nudges her with his shoulder. "That's nothing, it gets better—well, worse, but you know what I mean."

"I tried to get a job, but they weren't exactly hiring high school dropouts for the big bucks. Alice was still in school, and we needed a place to live... I made a bad decision, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I've ever made. I held up this convenience store not too far from here. I wasn't looking for a ton of money. I just needed enough to cover her school books and put food on the table. I didn't realize a shithole place like that had a panic button. I was locked inside until the cops showed up. Since I had a gun, it was mandatory time in jail."

Her eyes widened. He reached out to comfort her. "I'd never hurt you. Please don't be scared."

"What happened to Alice?"

Edward swallowed thickly. "Without me to pay the bills, she dropped out of school and started roaming the streets. She got hooked on drugs, and by the time I got out, it was too late."

"Too late to save her?"

"Can't save the damned, darlin'," Jasper chimes in. The only way Jasper can deal with the loss of Alice is to remain cold.

He fell in love with her the moment Edward introduced them. He knew he couldn't save her; he had known women like Alice his whole life: junkies willing to do anything for their next hit. It didn't stop him from trying. He kept pulling jobs in the hopes of taking Alice far away from the life that brought her so much pain. Just one last job and it would have been more than enough, except Alice didn't make it out.

"I met these guys in jail. They're the only family I have left. We don't hurt people. We just take from those that have a little too much," Edward continues.

"We're not in it for the glory, just to survive," Emmett added.

"If you need money, I have my own account..."

"Isabella, that won't be necessary. We're simply going to call Charles and tell him we have his daughter. He will be more than willing to give us five hundred thousand in exchange for you."

"Why stop there?" she asks. "Why not a million? Why not five million? I'm worth it." She smiles wickedly. "And it's just Bella."

_What the hell is she playing at?_

~o~

He shows her around while they're waiting for the very important call back. The last stop on the tour is his bedroom. He gently opens the door, which practically sits off its hinges. There's an old John Wayne poster with singed edges hanging on one wall and a tattered navy blue blanket lies over a threadbare mattress. A set of florescent pink beads with a pacifier dangling from it hangs over a crooked lamp shade. _He shouldn't be living like this_, she thinks. Whatever money they take is obviously not enough. They may only take enough to survive, but this isn't living.

She sits down on his bed and a hard spring pokes through. She winces and he is quickly by her side.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure you're used to a lot nicer places."

She shakes her head. She hates making him feel inadequate. "Do you ever wake up and ask yourself what the hell you're doing with your life?"

He smiles and laughs. "Every fucking day."

"That's not what I mean." She reclines and stares up at the ceiling, noticing the old glow-in-the-dark stars. "Every day is the same for me. It's like my life has been mapped out and I never got a say in any of it. I love my dad, don't get me wrong, but he has it in his head that I'm supposed to be some trophy wife for the owner of the next Fortune 500 company. What about me? What about what I want?"

He lies down next to her and faces her while she continues to stare above. The words are out of his mouth before he has a chance to take them back. "What do you want, Bella?"

No one has ever asked her what she wants. She never gave it any thought.

"I want to live. I want to eat macaroni and cheese every day until I get sick of it. I want to wear leather bracelets and pierce my tongue. I don't know… I just don't want to go back."

Edward props himself up on his elbow and hovers over her ever so slightly. She has no choice but to look at him instead of the stars.

"So that's why you want to stay, to rebel against Daddy?" His words cut and bite at her resolve.

She pushes herself up with her hands. They are face to face, noses barely touching. He can feel her hot breath as she exhales slowly.

"No one has ever looked at me the way you looked at me that day..." She licks her lips, remembering all too well the feeling. "I felt alive for the first time. There are things I like about this life, but I want the chance to find something I love."

It's his turn to breathe. His minty tobacco-laced breath hits her and she inhales deeply, holding it in. Edward leans in closer and parts his lips. The shrill ringing of a phone startles them. He quickly hops off the bed and rushes into the kitchen, leaving Bella alone. She lies back down and buries her face in his blanket.

He grabs the phone and leans in the doorway to his room. He can feel the probing eyes of Jasper and Emmett burning into the back of his head.

"Tomorrow at nine. Bring the money. Come alone." He waits for the person on the other end of the line to agree to his terms.

He ends the call, unsure if this is a victory or a concession.

"He's bringing the money?" Jasper asks. Edward nods solemnly.

Emmett comes up behind him and squeezes his shoulders. "I can't believe your crackpot plan actually worked." Edward keeps nodding.

Bella sits up. "Now what?"

"We make the trade," Edward answers.

~o~

Emmett drives the van this time. Edward is sitting in the back with Bella. She won't look at him, her eyes firmly planted on the small window of the door.

"Don't be nervous. It's real simple. He gives me the money, I give him you. You're not going to get hurt."

He itches to touch her, turn her head to face him, but he doesn't.

They stop in a deserted alley. Jasper gets out of the front seat and eyes the perimeter. He notices the black town car but no police. _Swan listened. He must really love his daughter. _Three taps on the side of the van and Edward emerges with Bella. Charles Swan rushes toward them, a black briefcase in his hand.

"Isabella!" he cries.

Edward is holding her by the wrist, his thumb pressing gently into her pulse point. Something that was meant to be practical is instead more possessive, and it turns her on.

"I have your money. I didn't tell anyone. Just let her go. Don't hurt her." He takes a few steps forward, extending the arm holding the briefcase, and holds out his other hand. Edward tries to let go, and she instinctively reaches back and grabs onto Edward's wrist.

His eyes widen and she turns back and mouths, "Trust me."

He forces her away from him. "Give her the money to bring back to me. I need to make sure it's all there."

She walks slowly to her father, and he wraps her up in his arms, kissing her hair and thanking God.

"You're okay?"

He holds her an arm's length away from him, inspecting her for any marks. She nods, unable to say the words she needs to. Taking the handle of the briefcase in her hand, she walks back to where Edward is standing. She hands the money off to him and turns to face her father. Edward knows that he missed whatever chance he had. The deal is done and it's time to let her go. Charles comes up behind her and reaches for her hand, forcing her to release the case.

"Come on, baby," he says.

Her big, brown eyes are no longer that of a child's. They're harder, blacker than espresso chip. Where has his ice cream sundae girl gone? She looks at her father, and he steadies himself for the blow she's about to deliver.

"I'm not coming with you."

Charles squares his shoulders and puffs out his chest. He's not afraid to put her in her place. Gritting his teeth, with a gruff voice he forcefully says, "Isabella, now is not the time for childish games."

"That's just it. I'm not a child. You're so worried about keeping me perfect...making me fit into your world, just like you did with Mom."

Edward can't stop the smile that starts to appear. Tightly holding the case in one hand, he brings his other hand to his mouth, scratching at the corner with his thumb, completely enraptured by the girl before him.

"This life isn't for me, Dad," she continues, "I want more."

He tears his eyes away from his daughter and eyes the thug that kidnapped her. "You want more...with _him_? What could he possibly give you?"

Edward muffles his laugh into his fist. Once he composes himself, he answers, "Well, five mil gets someone like me pretty far. If she wants to come along for the ride, I'd be happy to have her with me."

"Bella, baby, please don't do this. Whatever rebellious act you're trying to pull...I get it. I won't send you to that boarding school, and you can read whatever books you want. Just don't go."

She hugs him tightly one last time.

"I love you."

~o~

Edward and Bella climb into the back of the van. Emmett looks up from his pepper and sausage sub, his eyes practically bugging out of his head.

"What the hell is she doing here?" he asks.

Jasper turns around to look and stops mid-sip of his slurpee, the brain freeze hardly fazing him when he sees Bella's face.

"Really, guys? How can you eat at a time like this?" she asks. Emmett continues to munch on his sub as Bella looks on in partial disgust.

"We knew Edward had it in the bag, but you...you're a bit of a surprise," Emmett explains as he takes another bite.

Edward places his hand on her back and leans in, looking at Jasper and Emmett. "You'll come to realize these two can _always_ eat."

_Week of September 3__rd_

Living with them isn't like anything she expected. There are no late night heists or talks of big jobs. Life is fairly normal. Everyone does their own thing. Jasper likes to play on the computer, sometimes hacking into websites and changing headlines for laughs. He usually leaves a little cartoon character of a stripper with blue hair as his calling card. She laughs when she sees it and is shocked to learn Edward drew it for him. Emmett lifts his weights and constantly checks himself out. He has to be one of the most narcissistic people she has ever met., but there's something about him that's endearing. It could be his crude humor or the way he calls her "little lady".

Edward's behavior is the most surprising. Gone is the cocky predator from the bank. It seems like he's holding back, and she wonders if it's because of her. Maybe it's just an act and this is the real him. He's quiet and keeps to himself. He plays pretty melodies on a keyboard that has seen better days. It's missing four white keys and a few black, but somehow he makes it sound better than any Steinway she's heard at the opera house. He's always looking at her like he's trying to figure her out. There has to be a reason she stayed. It can't be because of him, no matter how much he wishes it were.

Life is fairly normal. Her days don't consist of etiquette class or ballet. She's allowed to come and go as she pleases, but she prefers to sit on the couch and draw or hear about their time in jail or some of the stunts they've pulled. A girl from her background shouldn't be intrigued by the danger. It's something about the way they live each day as if it were their last, how the things that matter to them don't have a price. Criminals shouldn't be romanticized, but these men are anything but. She likes to think of them as modern day Robin Hoods. They don't just take for themselves to survive; they donate to shelters and volunteer at soup kitchens. It's mainly on Emmett's insistence. There's a girl he's known almost all his life. He has a thing for her, and she has a heart of gold. Despite having an Ivy League education, she chooses to work for peanuts helping the locals instead of sitting at a plush corner office, wearing her Manolos and sipping on a latte. He tries to help her any way he can. Jasper agrees because he was born in one of those shelters. Edward doesn't make any waves because what else would he do with the money?

"We should probably get you some new clothes," Edward says as he appraises her current get-up. She's wearing a pair of his grey sweatpants rolled down at the waist and a black tank top that she's tied on the side. "Something more _you_ and less me."

The blush he's been accustomed to—and far too attached to—starts to fill her cheeks. "What if I like these?" _What if I like you?_

"Then we'll just have to get you more. And we have to figure out sleeping arrangements. I hate seeing you toss and turn on the couch." She raises an eyebrow and wonders if he watches her sleep. He quickly recovers and adds, "I mean it can't be comfortable. You can take my bed until we come up with something better."

Later that day, Edward watches her from the kitchen. Her legs are kicked up over the back of the couch, boney ankles poking out of the hem of his sweatpants. She's drawing and smudging lines with her finger. Her eyes crinkle as she focuses on the paper, moving her pencil in swift loops. He goes over to her and stands behind the couch, watching and wanting to reach out and touch her. She jumps a little when she realizes he's so close.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I thought now would be a good time to go shopping. I can come back later."

"No," she says, sitting up and quickly closing her sketch pad, "now is fine. I should probably go change." She gets up and he's staring at her, focusing on her right cheek. His stare makes her a little uneasy. "Is something wrong?"

He slowly reaches out his hand, afraid he might alight from the feel of her skin. He brushes his thumb across her cheek. "You have a little something..." She instinctively brings her hand to her cheek and their fingers touch. She can feel her skin redden underneath his touch.

"Thanks."

Bella emerges a few minutes later wearing what she wore the day she left with Edward, but she opts for an old t-shirt of his instead. Seeing his clothes on her makes him smile more than it should. Seeing his clothes on the floor and her in his bed would make him smile even wider.

Edward grabs his leather jacket off of the kitchen chair and walks over to her. He places it over her shoulders.

"You may want to wear that. We're taking the bike today." She looks around confused before following him outside.

He stops in front of two trees and rips off a blue tarp. Her jaw drops when she sees a 1957 Harley Davidson Panhead in perfect condition. Black on black, matte black hardware and matching exhaust.

"Holy shit!" she exclaims. She runs over to the motorcycle and runs her hands over the body, pausing at the seat.

He stills her and places his hand over hers. "You're lucky you're cute. No one touches my bike."

Her brows knit together in worry. "I'm sorry...it's just I've never seen one in person. My father's friend Billy collects cars and bikes. I always loved the older Harleys. Something about them is just so sexy..."

She doesn't have a chance to explain herself. He grabs her by the hips, gently squeezing her soft curves, and hoists her up onto the seat. Throwing a leg over the bike, he settles in and places her arms around his waist. He pulls the choke, kicks the kick-start, and the engine roars to life. The force the bike takes off with pushes her closer into him. Her laughter tickles the side of his neck as she holds him tighter.

He parks the bike on a side street and hops off. He extends his hand to Bella, but she slides off with no problem. Her hair is a mess and her cheeks are slightly pink from the wind. She can't wipe the smile off her face.

Checking both sides before crossing the street, he looks behind him one last time. She's standing next to the bike dumbfounded, a look of pure joy etched on her face. He turns away and heads toward the shop. The delusional part of him thinks they'll ride off into the sunset on his bike. He doesn't want to come on too strong or scare her, so he just walks away.

"That was amazing!" she shouts, running across the street to catch up to him.

"We're not on the bike anymore. I can hear you just fine." He cracks a smile with her by his side. As much as he wants to handle her with kid gloves, her impossible cuteness makes that impossible.

He holds the door for her as they walk in, an old fashioned bell alerting the clerk to their presence. She takes in the bright colors on the racks: hot pinks, neon greens. There's fur and corduroy. Feeling the textures and styles, she knows this place isn't cheap. It's some vintage boutique, a place she would have shopped at if it were permitted. High society types aren't supposed to wear ripped, skinny jeans with a sleeveless shirt with the word "Relax" plastered on the front. A leopard print bra most definitely should not be peeking out from the sides.

She's immediately drawn to a dress covered in sequins. She traces the pattern with her finger. It's nothing but a mere scrap of fabric. It has no straps, and she holds it up and wonders if she can even fit into it.

"You should try it on." He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to see her in it. He's only fantasized about her bare, soft skin and imagined how far her blush reaches.

She quickly puts the dress back on the rack and lowers her head. "I don't have anywhere to wear that."

"That's not the point." He reaches over her and grabs it by the hanger "Do you like it? Do you want it?"

The air leaves her lungs and seems to surround the two of them in a tiny, combustible bubble. Suddenly she feels as if the questions are no longer about her choice of clothing. She extends a few fingers cautiously, afraid both the garment and the possibilities will burn her. She finally grabs the dress and pulls it away from him.

The saleswoman guides her to a small dressing room. Bella looks back at Edward, who seems to be busying himself with the case of antique watches. A part of her wanted him to see her in the dress.

"I can grab you some accessories while you're trying that on," the saleswoman offers.

Bella barely acknowledges the woman and continues to stare at Edward. She's always thought he was good looking. Between his eyes and the way he smiles, she knows she done for. Thinking about the way her body fit so perfectly wrapped around him on the bike makes her shiver. It's not just his physical attributes. He's leaning over, looking at watches, handling each one with reverence and care. Bella is sure that he's not just like that with delicate trinkets. The things he loves will always be held close. This man, who she barely knows, has somehow managed to make her world feel brand new. She remembers what her life was like before she met him, like the whole world was moving and she was at a standstill. Now, she's spinning out of control and orbiting him.

"Huh? Oh, yeah...yes, please," she answers.

She pulls the curtain closed and starts to undress. Something happens when she puts the dress on. The new her—the _real_ her—finally begins to surface. She's confident and sexy. She doesn't have to pretend to be someone she's not. She no longer has to live in the nightmare of efficiency. A woman with desire and dreams, she's not afraid to go after she wants.

Her new attitude almost falters when she sees him in front of her holding a leather-studded cuff. He tries to avert his eyes, but her legs are too long and too much skin is showing.

"I thought you'd like something like this," he says as he hands her the bracelet.

The contrast of the soft leather and hard steel feels perfect.

"I love it..." She fiddles with the cuff, struggling to fasten it.

"Here, let me." He takes her dainty wrist in his hand. He feels her bones with his thumb. She's so fragile and breakable, but so is he.

~o~

A few hours later, and armed with the bare necessities (plus one sequined mini dress), they finally arrive back at the cabin.

"You look like a bona fide badass, little lady," Emmett says.

Jasper gives her a quick look-over as well. "I like the pants."

"It only made sense, you know? What kind of biker bitch would I be without leather pants?" She rubs her hands over her thighs and strikes a pose, arching her back and sticking her butt out.

There's a sharp intake of breath, and she knows it's from Edward based off of the smirks and laughs coming from the other two men.

"You took a ride on the bike once. What makes you think there'll be a repeat performance?" Edward asks.

Her lips turn up in a side smile and she raises one brow. "Won't there be?"

Emmett bangs his fist on the table and starts howling. "Got a little more than you bargained for with this one, huh, Edward?"

Bella shakes her head, laughing, and walks down the hall toward Edward's bedroom to empty the backpack that holds her new clothes, her new identity. Edward stands in the hallway and watches her, remaining out of sight, as she places her shirts and pants in separate piles on his bed. She looks around, wondering where to put her things, especially the new lacy things she bought.

Trying to put away the thought of her modeling for him, he rushes into the room and opens the top draw to his dresser.

"You can put your things in here," he says. The roughness in his voice takes her off guard.

"Okay, thanks. I'm sorry I'm just taking your room over. I know you didn't have to take me with you...or even let me stay…but I really appreciate it." She's hurt and it shows by the way her hands shake a little as she puts her clothes away.

He's about to walk away, but he stops in the middle of the room. "I'm sorry. This isn't easy for me. It's not that I don't want you here, I just don't know how to act around you without making you want to run away."

She crosses the small space between them and looks him square in the face. Her arms are stiff by her sides and she squeezes her hands into fists. She's fierce and unrelenting. "I've never run away from anything in my life. And before you say anything else, I didn't run away from my father, I ran to _you_."

She relaxes and reaches for his hands. Taking them in her own, she rubs the empty finger where the ring she wears around her neck used to be.

"I know you feel something too. And I don't care how scary it is or how it doesn't make any sense. I don't know if I believe in destiny, but someone or something saw it fit for our paths to cross." She darts her eyes back and forth between his eyes and the floor. "Why are you so afraid of me?" she asks in a whisper.

He takes his hands away and grabs her gently by the chin, forcing her to look at him. "I'm not afraid of you." His hand still holds her face. "I'm afraid Alice was right, and I'm afraid I'm going to screw this up."

"You won't."

He pulls her into him and he can feel her heart beating against his chest. He stares at her mouth as she licks her bottom lip.

"I promise," she assures him.

He weaves his hand behind her head and through her hair, bringing her closer so their foreheads touch. She holds her breath as he touches his lips to hers.

They spend the rest of the night holed up in his room. She asks about his tattoos. He tells her all about Alice, about her visions. He explains the importance of the ring and how it had belonged to Alice. The significance of wearing his ring is not lost on her. She talks about her mother, father, and childhood. They laugh about the horrible dates she's been set up on.

The night sky starts to turn pink. Her yawning tells him it's time to let her sleep. She can barely keep her eyes open. It takes all he has to remove himself from her side. He covers her up in the blanket and smooths back her hair. He bends down and places a kiss on her forehead.

"Stay," she mumbles, half asleep. He can't deny her anything.

_Week of September 10th _

Their room becomes a haven of sorts. They spend more time with each other than with anyone else. She shows him all of her drawings. There are a few of him, and the detailing is incredible. He asks her to draw him something: a new tattoo. It's going to take some time, but she has the perfect thing in mind.

They like the silence, the closeness of being together without having to say a word. They're lying on the bed, hands intertwined, when Emmett knocks on the door.

"Hey, Edward, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Edward climbs on top of her, holding himself up with his arms. "I'll be right back," he says, staring into her eyes.

"And I'll be right here," she says with a smile.

He lowers himself onto her and kisses her for a minute before jumping off, leaving her wanting so much more.

He shuts the door behind him and leans against it. "What's up, man?" he asks Emmett.

"Rosie needs help. I already told her we would and found the perfect job."

"Don't be ridiculous, Emmett. We have enough to last us a lifetime. We don't need to do any more jobs."

"This isn't for us. The shelter is hurting bad, man. One of the girl's ex-husband is some big shot in the city. He's threatening to shut down their funding. If we gave them some start-up cash, that abusive prick won't have a leg to stand on."

"What's the job, Em?"

"It's a bank down on Sixth."

"Shit." His patience is already wearing thin. He runs both his hands through his hair. "A bank job? You've got to be kidding me!"

"We can do this."

"No. There's no way. I know you're sweet on Rosie, but a fucking bank on one of the busiest streets in the city? Armed guards? Fuck that. We'll give them some of our money."

"It won't be enough. Besides, Jasper and I already have it figured out. We're gonna hit a bank truck, not the actual bank."

Edward narrows his eyes. "You already agreed to this without even asking me?"

"Well, you've been tied up with the little lady, so I just figured—"

"What? That you'd do this alone? Get yourselves killed?" he spits out. "Never again!"

He opens the bedroom door and slowly closes it. His shoulders are slumped over and he can't stop grabbing at his hair.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"Nothing." He's tight lipped and upset.

"It doesn't look like nothing." She comes up behind him and rests her chin on his shoulder. "You can tell me."

"It's just another job. I thought we were done, but a friend of ours needs some help. We just have to work out the specifics, make sure we're at the right place at the right time. Don't worry about it."

"That doesn't sound so bad. Maybe I could help?"

"No," he growls, turning away from her. "The more you know, the worse it is. I don't want to risk you getting caught." His face softens a bit and he takes her hand and leads her to the bed. "I can't lose you when I just found you."

"But it's okay if you get caught? What am I supposed to do without you? Where else am I going to go?"

Silent tears start to roll down her cheek. She pushes him down on the bed and straddles him. He scans her eyes and reaches up to her cheek, wiping away her tears.

Pulling his face to hers, cheek on cheek, she whispers, "I know what I'm getting into. I'm in this."

She starts to kiss him, tracing his lower lip with her tongue. He parts his lips slightly and whimpers into her mouth. She's too close and everywhere.

She pushes herself down into his lap, feeling his response between her legs. Her kisses become fervent as she places her lips on the spot below his earlobe and sucks gently. Fingers start to creep toward the hem of her shirt. She doesn't object. Up and over her head, it lands on the floor. Moving at an almost unnatural speed, Edward flips her over onto her back. He stalks his way up her body, gently pushing her up the bed, until they are up against the headboard. She places her hands at the nape of his neck and pulls him down to meet her bare chest. He starts to place soft, wet kisses from her collarbone up to the corner of her mouth.

Her fingertips snake into the waistband of his jeans, where she pops the button. Pushing his pants down his hips, she scratches her nails across his ass. She cracks a wicked smirk as she kicks his pants off onto the floor. His hands start to move beneath her as he grabs her by the ass and forces her hips forward. He slides one hand out from under her and traces his index finger along her sternum and between her breasts. Her nipples instantly harden. He lowers his body down the length of hers, bowing his head and dipping his tongue in her bellybutton as she lets out a moan. He grabs a fistful of lace and rips her panties from her body. The harsh movement is countered by open-mouth kisses on her hip bones, pausing at her lips.

"So beautiful," he hums.

"Edward, you don't..."

He interrupts her with his tongue, one long lap after another up her slit. His tongue pushes in and out, soft at first and then becoming stronger and faster as she moans, craving more. Knowing she is close, he reaches his fingers down to tease her clit. The room is electrified along with her nerve endings.

Her shallow breaths become steadier as he crawls his way back up to her, nuzzling his face into her neck. She curls into his side and drifts off to sleep as he strokes her hair. Since he's shared a bed with Bella, sleep comes a lot easier. Tonight, he lies awake and stares at his ceiling. For the first time in his life, he prays to the only person he knows can hear him. _Alice, please let this work out._

Emmett and Jasper are waiting for them in the small kitchen, ready to finalize their plan.

"All you got to do is trail the bank truck. They'll see you following them and end up taking a turn down this street over here," Emmett explains as he points to an elaborate map Jasper had printed out. "You're basically herding cattle. You'll bring them right where we want them."

"It sounds too easy." Edward looks up at Bella, who is standing behind him, taking a bite out of an apple.

"Easy is good, right?" she asks while chewing loudly.

"Easy gets you caught."

"You and Bella take the Charger. We'll be waiting and then block them in. Then, we'll dump the van and take off together. I've mapped out the route over and over. It's easy, Edward," Jasper adds.

Bella's eyes light up at the mention of the Charger. "Don't tell me you have a Dodge Charger too?"

He slides out of his chair and grabs her hand. "Come on, I'll show you my other girl."

She can't hide her blush at the reference of her being his girl. They walk a little ways into the woods and stop at what looks like a rundown shed. He opens the doors, and sitting there in pristine condition is a 1969 Dodge Charger.

"You have a thing for black, don't you?" she asks as she runs over and checks out the chrome bumper and rims.

He stands next to her and sweeps her hair to one side, admiring the dark, luscious locks. She turns to face him, and her hooded eyes urge him on. He pushes her into the hood of the car, grinding his hardness against her.

"I have a thing for _you_..."

~o~

Edward turns on the defrost setting to defog the windows. Her eyes are still glazed over and she sighs as she leans her head against the cool window.

"You ready, B?" His hand is firmly placed on the stick shift, ready to kick it into high gear on her word. She reaches over to trace the letters tattooed on his knuckles. He looks down and smiles at the sight of her black nail polish—a choice she wouldn't have made before.

"This is so crazy," she whispers, a hint of the girl she used to be fighting her way to the surface.

He turns to face her and their eyes meet. She doesn't try to explain her feelings because she doesn't even understand them. All she knows is somewhere in those sage eyes, she lost herself and found the love of her life.

She raises a lone eyebrow, jutting her chin out in defiance and adding a mischievous smile. "Let's do this."


End file.
